Counterstroke
by RedZipBoots
Summary: The most dangerous enemies are the ones you don't know you have.
1. Chapter 1

There was one thing in life about which Kid Curry was certain. If he lived to be a hundred he would never figure out what had made him leave Heyes in the saloon that night and go back to the hotel alone.

Sure, he was dog-tired; they had spent three long, hot, hard days in the saddle on the trail from Red Rock but that was no reason for him to stop watching his partner's back, especially in a lawless town like Barrenbrook. He had to admit there had been the odd occasion in the past when he had been tempted away from his place at the bar by a pretty saloon girl suggesting that they go up to her room for a little fun, but he very rarely left if his partner was winning at poker.

And that night his partner was winning...

Hannibal Heyes laid down his three jacks with a smile and an airy, but insincere, apology before scooping up yet another winning pot. He glanced around the table and noted a couple of the other players shaking their heads and grumbling about 'lucky cards' but Heyes was sure it was all fairly good natured. Nobody, at this table anyway, looked like they were out to make trouble.

Although he had started out with a modest stake, a combination of most of what was in both his and the Kid's pockets, the pile of coins and paper money on the table in front of him had grown considerably in the time they had spent in the Golden Bell Saloon.

It had been well over an hour since the Kid had tapped him on the shoulder and murmured something about turning in. Heyes had been a little surprised but he didn't mind. In a low stakes game like this where he didn't have to concentrate too hard he knew his instincts would warn him if someone was going to accuse him of cheating, giving him time to leave the game before it turned nasty. However, if the stakes were high and the cards needed his full concentration, it was then that he really needed the Kid to watch his back.

Heyes had nodded to his partner in reply but felt tempted to stay a bit longer. The players in Barrenbrook weren't bad, it was just that tonight the cards were running in his favour and the money he could win here would mean that they wouldn't have to look for work for a couple of weeks.

An hour or two ticked by and gradually the crowd in the saloon began to thin. Having lost two players from the table already, mostly due to Heyes taking a good portion of their stake, the former outlaw leader figured that the pots would now be relatively small and not worth him missing his sleep for, so he decided it was time to call it a night.

Stepping out from the fuggy atmosphere of the saloon Heyes relished each breath of the cool night air as he strolled down the virtually deserted main street back toward the hotel. A small lantern had been lit and hung outside the front of the building making the entrance clearly visible in the darkness, but it shed very little light onto the street itself.

Ever since the Kid had left the saloon Heyes had made sure that the retaining loop on his holster was detached from his Shofield and he checked it again now. He also purposely avoided walking too close to the buildings just in case anyone might be lying in wait down one of the alleyways intent on robbing him of his winnings.

The former leader of the Devil's Hole Gang was halfway down the street when a cry from the opposite boardwalk drew his attention. He reached for his gun. Before he could draw, something hard hit him on the back of the head, a bright white light flashed before eyes and his world faded to black.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Sleepy blue eyes opened reluctantly and squinted at the sunlight streaming through the gap in the bedroom curtains. Kid Curry yawned and stretched his arms above his head enjoying the comfort of a real, if slightly lumpy, mattress. It was nice to be able to sleep late for a change. He could get used to not having to start his day at the crack of dawn, tending to the horses or cooking breakfast. _I wonder what time Heyes left that poker game_ , he thought, turning over to face his cousin's bed.

Kid sat up abruptly as he stared at a bed that hadn't been slept in. Now he thought about it, he didn't recall having been woken up by the striking of a match as Heyes lit the lamp, or by the thud of each boot as it was dropped to the floor.

Swinging his legs out of bed Kid walked over to the wash stand and hurriedly splashed some cold water over his face. While silver droplets dripped from the blond curls on his forehead his eyes searched the room eventually coming to rest on Heyes' saddlebags on the floor by the dresser, exactly where he had left them yesterday, alongside his bedroll and old grey coat.

Minutes later Kid Curry was dressed and on his way down the stairs. He stopped at the unattended front desk and thumped the brass bell on the countertop several times. The bell went unanswered. Swallowing his irritation he turned on his heel, crossed the hotel lobby, and stepped out onto the boardwalk. Adjusting his hat to shade his eyes from the bright sunlight he stood for a moment and looked up and down the street wondering where to begin.

Barrenbrook had once been a sleepy little town but, due to its location near the border of Texas and New Mexico and since the advent of regular cattle drives, it had grown considerably. Business was booming and the town was often full of cowpunchers passing to and from the Texas cattle trails. To date there were seven saloons, three brothels, two hotels, eight boarding houses, two livery stables, a smattering of shops and cafes, and a large general store. The only thing Barrenbrook lacked was a sheriff's office. This fact had played a large part in drawing Heyes and Curry to the town because it meant they could relax a little without the need to look over their shoulders for anyone wearing a tin star.

Kid decided to start his search at the livery stable. Even as he approached the corral he could plainly see his partner's sorrel mare standing next to his own black gelding. A wide blaze together with her long white stockings made her easily visible among all the other horses. _Well, at least I know Heyes hasn't just up and rode out of town_ , he thought.

His next stop was the last place he had seen Heyes, the Golden Bell Saloon. As he walked in off the street he could see that the place was almost empty; it was still a little early for many people to be drinking, even for this kind of town.

"Mornin'," he called to the bartender as he sauntered up to the bar. "Got any coffee?"

"Sure." The bartender retrieved the coffee pot and filled a cup with the steaming liquid.

The quality of the coffee was a pleasant surprise. Kid had expected it to be more like the dark brown swill that Heyes subjected him to most mornings, and he took a few appreciative swallows.

"Any trouble in here last night?" he asked, leaning casually on the stained and glass-ringed mahogany bar.

The bartender didn't bother to look up from the glass he was polishing. "Nope."

"Throw anyone outta here when you closed up?"

"Nope."

"Anyone pass out on one of the tables?" Heyes rarely got tipsy, let alone blind drunk, especially while he was playing poker but Kid felt he had to ask.

"Nope. Most nights we get a couple of fellas who can't hold their liquor but not last night." The bartender looked up and frowned. "Why you askin'? You missin' someone?"

"You could say that."

"What he look like? I got a real good memory for faces."

"Oh, 'bout my height. Brown hair and eyes. He was wearin' a black hat and a light blue shirt with tan pants. Last time I saw him he was playin' poker right over there," Kid jerked his thumb toward a table several feet away.

The bartender stared up at the ceiling while he tried to recall last night's patrons. "Fella with a big smile?"

"Could be." Kid was encouraged.

"Good player. Cleaned out a couple of my regulars," the man added with a chuckle.

Curry groaned inwardly at this news. Now he would have to check all the alleyways in case someone had decided to get their money back with their fists or a bullet rather than at the poker table.

"He must have left...oh...'round about one a.m."

"Thanks, mister." Kid touched the brim of his hat with his index finger, placed a coin on the bar next to his empty coffee cup and headed out onto the street once more.

Next, he began a systematic search of all the alleys that joined the main street making enquiries in the other saloons on the way, but with no luck.

Standing with his hands on his hips wondering where to look next his eyes alighted on a large sign at the far end of an intersecting side street which simply said 'Brothel'. Kid shrugged his shoulders. Heyes didn't make a habit of frequenting cat-houses, especially in rough towns such as this, but it was worth a try.

As he approached the building with the sign on it Kid noticed two similar establishments nearby. He knocked on the door of the first one, feeling a little self-conscious doing so in broad daylight.

The door was eventually opened by a woman in her mid-forties clutching a brightly-coloured, embroidered silk robe around her ample bosom. Despite being a little bleary-eyed she looked him up and down, her eyes eventually coming to rest on or about the tan gloves which were tucked under the buckle of his low-slung gun belt. She smiled appreciatively.

"You're keen ain't ya cowboy? 'Fraid all m' girls will be sleepin' 'til noon."

"I'm not here on business, ma'am." Kid felt himself blush slightly under her brazen scrutiny. "I'm just lookin' for my friend."

"We don't let customers stay the night," stated the brothel's landlady. "We'd be right unpopular with the hotels if we did."

"I know that, ma'am, but could you just check that he ain't still here?"

The woman gave him an irritated look. Kid Curry reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a few silver coins. He held up two.

The coins were hastily plucked from his fingers. "Is he dark or blond?"

"Dark."

"I'll go take a look. C'mon in." She held the door open.

"Er, no thank you ma'am, I'll just wait here if it's all the same to you."

"Suit yourself." The woman shrugged and disappeared inside. Kid realized that he would only have her word that she had looked in all the rooms but he figured he would just have to take it.

A few minutes later the landlady reappeared. "Just like I said. No one here besides m' girls."

"Thank you for looking, ma'am." Kid tipped his hat politely as he turned to go.

"Hope we'll be seein' you later," she called after him. "Good lookin' fella like you will have m' girls fallin' over each other to entertain you."

The blond ex-outlaw shook his head and smiled to himself. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

His enquiries at the other two brothels followed a similar pattern.

As he retraced his steps back to the hotel to see whether Heyes had returned in his absence, Kid even stopped at the bath house although he knew it was probably a long shot. The water in the big metal drum at the rear of the building wouldn't be nearly hot enough this early in the day so it was highly unlikely he would find him soaking in a tub.

Kid Curry's brows were beginning to knit together with worry. Entering the hotel lobby he noticed that the desk clerk was now present.

"Did you see what time my partner came in last night?" he asked. Then, noticing the puzzled look on the man's face, he added, "Room number four."

"Came in late, did he?"

"Dunno. That's why I'm askin'."

"Don't recall anyone coming in after about eleven o'clock, mister," was the unhelpful reply.

"You wouldn't happen to have been asleep back there in the office by any chance, would ya?" Curry said tartly, giving the man a steely look before taking the stairs two at a time.

Sitting down on the edge of his cousin's undisturbed bed Kid tossed his hat onto the dresser and flopped onto his back with a groan. Where the hell was Heyes? They always made sure to tell each other where they were going and what they were doing. Being worth ten thousand dollars apiece, dead or alive, made you careful — and Heyes was nothing if not careful.

He mentally checked off where he had looked so far; saloons, brothels, livery, bath house, alleyways. Okay, he thought, I'll try the stores next and the cafés. At the thought of a place to eat his empty stomach decided to make its feelings known and gave a loud rumble. Kid had been so caught up with searching for his partner that he hadn't even given breakfast a thought.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Kid Curry dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter as he leaned back in his chair and looked with dismay at the remains of his half-eaten breakfast. Taking one last mouthful of coffee he stood and walked over to the door where he grabbed his hat from the line of hooks on the wall and let himself out onto the boardwalk.

It was now late morning and Barrenbrook had finally come to life. People were going about their daily business and calling out greetings to one another. Shopkeepers washed windows while others swept the ever-present dust away from shop doorways. Wagons and buckboards rolled down the main thoroughfare adding to the noise and dust while others unloaded their cargo indiscriminately, often partially blocking the street. A couple of dogs ran among the horses, sometimes snapping at the heels of one or two and provoking a stream of colourful abuse from their drivers.

The increase in horse traffic meant that Kid made sure to look where he was walking in order to avoid the piles of fresh manure as he crossed the street on his way to the general store. A bell tinkled above his head as he pushed open the door. Despite the activity outside, the store was relatively quiet so he did not have to wait long before he got the proprietor's attention.

"Howdy, mister," the man addressed the ex-outlaw, genially. "What can I get for you today?"

For a moment Curry hesitated wondering whether he should make a purchase first but, since Heyes had taken most of his money to enhance his poker stake, his funds were limited. Therefore, buying an item in each of the shops on the street just to ask if they had seen his cousin was out of the question.

As Kid explained his problem and described his partner the shopkeeper's smile faded.

"So you're not buying anything?" he asked, tight lipped.

Kid's blue eyes blinked innocently. "Wasn't planning to right now, no."

"Well, this here's a store, mister, and a store is for selling things. That goes for information too."

Neither man heard the door at the rear of the shop open and close again.

Briefly, Kid gazed at the floorboards at his feet. When he looked up his eyes held a glint of ice and his right hand brushed close by his holster on its way to rest on his hip. The man took a step backwards.

Rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on his apron the shopkeeper swallowed hard as he forced a smile. "But. . .er. . . just for today. . . information is free." He cleared his throat. "I ain't seen anyone matching that description this morning. . .or last night. . .and we were open 'til late."

"And you wanted money to tell me that?" Kid made no attempt to keep the trace of menace from his voice. "Sheesh!"

With a shake of his head he left the shop leaving the proprietor dabbing at the perspiration on his brow with the corner of his apron.

Kid had only taken a few long-legged strides down the boardwalk when a young boy, wearing a shop apron which was almost trailing on the ground, raced up from behind him and blocked his path. His abrupt halt in the middle of the boardwalk caused a few people to tut and grumble as they had to step out of the way to avoid bumping into him.

"I heard you in the store, mister," the boy said, slightly breathless. "That man you was askin' about...was he wearin' this hat?" The boy held out a beaten up, black hat with a brown band decorated with silver conchos.

Curry ushered the boy to one side as he took the hat.

"That's his alright. Have you seen him?"

"Uh huh."

"When?"

"Last night. Y' see, I work in the general store. We was open late, and when we stay open late I bunk in the store 'stead of goin' home. Well, somethin' woke me up and when I looked out the window I saw them."

"Them?"

"Yeah." The boy nodded eagerly. "The men that took the man who was wearing this hat."

Seizing the boy by the shoulders Kid bent forward to look him directly in the face. " _Took?!_ Tell me exactly what you saw."

"I didn't see much, mister, it was kinda dark," the boy replied, trying to pull away from Kid's grip. "But I did see one of them hit him from behind. Musta knocked him right out - he hit the dirt real hard. I'd shouted out, tried to warn him 'cause I saw the man comin' out of the alley but I guess I weren't fast enough."

"Which alley was it?"

The boy pointed to the opposite side of the street where there was a narrow gap between the buildings.

"What else? Did you see anything else?"

The boy nodded. "Yessir." He pointed to an intersecting street. "They was real quick bringin' the buckboard round that corner. Then they just threw him on it and headed outta town, that way." His arm swung round to indicate north. "Headed out in the direction of Benning, I guess."

Kid tried to ignore the uncomfortable tightening sensation in his chest as he asked, "How many men?"

"Two."

"Were they both riding on the buckboard?"

The boy nodded.

"You've been a real help, son. Thank you." Curry did his best to find a smile as he dipped into his vest pocket and handed the boy his remaining silver coins.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Kid Curry pushed his hat to the back of his head as he crouched down in the side street and traced the wheel marks in the dirt with a gloved hand. If the boy from the store was right then there had, by some miracle, only been one wagon down here in quite a while. He studied the ground. Numerous footprints added to the mix but, among the confusion of tracks he could just discern two large notches on one of the iron wheel rims. _Well, if this is the wagon_ , he thought, _I may just have a chance of picking up its tracks._

A short time later Kid had checked out of the hotel and was saddling up his horse along with Heyes' sorrel. He wound the stampede strings of Heyes' hat around the saddle horn and, holding the sorrel's reins he mounted up and headed out of Barrenbrook in the direction the boy had indicated. Taking Heyes' horse with him was a risk as it would slow him down but Kid knew that if they needed to make a quick getaway they would be better off with a horse each. Past experience had proven that riding double could be risky at the best of times, more so if people happened to be chasing you — or shooting at you — or, as happened to them all too frequently, doing both.

A little way past the outskirts of Barrenbrook he dismounted and looked carefully at the ground. There were a lot of tracks still, all overlapping and scuffed over, so he vaulted back into his saddle and nudged his horse into a jog, all the while watching the ground for signs of the damaged wagon wheel.

The sun was sinking toward the western horizon and Kid was just starting to think he might have missed something when he came to a fork in the trail. Jumping from his horse once again he examined the dirt beneath his feet and walked a little way up the westward fork. That was when he saw it; a wheel track with two notches. Curiously, it appeared that there were two horses closely following the wagon. He guessed the boy had been mistaken - it looked like there could be four of them, at least.

Curry grinned. "I knew I'd find ya," he said out loud while hoping against hope that these tracks would ultimately lead him to Heyes. "C'mon, fella," he said to his gelding as he swung back up into the saddle. "Let's see if we can make up some ground before it gets dark."

Clicking his tongue to the horse on the lead rein Kid stayed at a steady lope so that he could still keep an eye on the tracks from time to time. This trail was not very well travelled which made his task a little easier.

Another hour passed and with sunset fast approaching he was finding it difficult to see clearly in the fading light. Despite his desperation to catch up with the men who had taken Heyes, the last thing he wanted was to stray from the trail in the dark and lose valuable time, so he decided it would be best if he stopped for the night and pick it up again at first light.

Looking up from the dusty road Kid spied a farm up ahead silhouetted against the ochre sky. He leant on his saddle horn while he considered his options. Although he knew that someone leading a saddled, but riderless, horse complete with saddlebags and bedroll was probably going to raise peoples' suspicions and could mean him having to answer a lot of questions, the thought of bedding down on soft hay in a barn was preferable to the hard ground any day.

Ten minutes later he rode into the farmyard.

Kid's boots had only just touched the ground when the front door of the small farmhouse was flung open and a tall, thin man with steel-grey hair and a bristly horseshoe moustache strode onto the porch. In his hands he held a double-barrelled shotgun and it was aimed right at him.

"What's your business here?" the man demanded.

Kid raised his hands in the air, his eyes never wavering from the shotgun. He hoped that the man hadn't noticed his low-slung holster; it had a habit of making some folk a little jumpy.

"Don't shoot, mister. I'm not here to cause any trouble. Just looking to bed down some place for the night, that's all. Was wonderin' if I could use your barn?"

Ignoring the question the man asked one of his own.

"Why ya leadin' that horse?"

"It's my friend's horse. I'm taking it to him."

Faded hazel eyes narrowed with suspicion. "He ain't just hidin' back along the trail?"

"No, sir. 'Cause if he was, I'd have made sure to leave the horse there with him," Kid replied, stifling a wry smile.

Just then there was a movement behind the man and a small, plump, grey-haired woman bustled through the door busily wiping her hands on her apron.

"Now Bert, don't you be greeting visitors that way." She looked at the blue-eyed cowboy and smiled. He was the least threatening person they had seen in a long while. "You can put your hands down, young man."

"Er, beggin' your pardon ma'am but I don't think I will. Not while those two barrels are still pointin' my way."

"Bert!"

Bert frowned as he reluctantly lowered the shotgun. "You know how it is, Ida. Can't be too careful."

Ida patted her husband's arm affectionately. "I know."

Curry let out a slow breath and lowered his hands then, remembering his manners, he removed his hat.

"My name's Thaddeus Jones and all I'm askin' is if I can bed down in your barn for the night. I'll be gone at first light."

"I'm sure you can do that, can't he Bert?" Ida smiled sweetly at her glowering husband.

"Humph! Those dang horses better not eat my grain," grumbled Bert.

"Oh, I got my own supply right here," Kid said patting the small sack of feed which hung next to his saddle bags.

Bert considered this. "Well, I guess it'd be alright. Use the big barn. You make sure and be gone by mornin' y' hear."

"Yessir." Kid Curry nodded. "Much obliged," he added, as he replaced his hat and turned both horses toward the barn.

Dust hung thickly in the still air as Kid routinely brushed down the two horses; the sun had all but disappeared and he didn't have a lantern but he was so used to tending to their horses after dark that he hardly noticed.

Realizing that in his haste to find his partner he had left town without replenishing their supplies Kid was wondering what he might find to eat in either his or Heyes' saddlebags when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. With a fraction of a second to spare he stopped himself from drawing his Colt. Instead he looked casually over his shoulder to see Bert standing in the open doorway holding a lantern.

The man pointed. "Feed's over there in that sack."

"Like I said, I got—"

"Pump's out back. You'll find a spare bucket there too."

Kid smiled. "Thanks."

Bert placed the lantern on the ground by the door and cleared his throat. "Er. . .Ida says. . .will you come and take supper with us?"

"Well, that's right friendly of you. Mister. . .?"

"Beck."

"It looks like I've got more feed for my horse than I've got for me in these saddlebags so a home-cooked meal would sure be a real treat, thank you."

Bert Beck nodded curtly. "It'll be on the table in ten minutes. Wouldn't advise y' to be late."

"No, sir. I'll be right there, Mister Beck."

Kid ducked his head and smiled to himself. He knew exactly what Bert meant. Having Ida clucking around was probably much the same as having Heyes issuing orders whenever they made camp. Sometimes it was as if his partner still thought he was leading the Devil's Hole Gang.

Thinking about their usual routine made Kid more aware of how worried he was about Heyes and he hastily pushed away the unwelcome question of what he would do if he did not find him.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Kid swallowed his last mouthful of apple pie and gave a satisfied sigh.

"That sure was good, ma'am. Thank you." His aborted breakfast and lack of lunch had ensured his usual keen appetite was back in time for supper.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Mister Jones. It's not often we have company for supper these days, is it Bert?"

"Not since all the decent folk moved away and Barrenbrook turned into a den of iniquity. We get all kinds of no-goods round these parts now," griped Bert.

Kid wasn't exactly sure what 'iniquity' meant but he got the general idea.

"How long have you folks been here?" he asked.

"Since the end of the war," Bert replied. "It was a peaceable place then, quiet after all the fightin' back east; not full of drunken cowhands and lawlessness like it is these days. We made a good livin' supplyin' the town with poultry and eggs, but over the last couple of years disease has taken a goodly number of our birds."

Kid glanced dubiously at the virtually clean chicken bones on his plate. Ida noted the look and laughed.

"Don't worry Mister Jones, we don't eat the sick ones."

Kid smiled gratefully.

"We still manage to make enough of a livin' though," concluded Bert.

Kid shook his head. "There's a lot of people strugglin', Mister Beck. My friend Joshua and me we travel around a lot and we hear about hardships all over."

Ida changed the subject. "What brings you to these parts, Mister Jones," she asked. "You don't have the look of a regular cowhand. You a lawman by any chance?" Her eyes strayed momentarily to Kid's shiny six-gun.

Kid gave a chuckle. "No ma'am, I'm not a lawman. Neither is my friend. We take on most kinds of work so long as it ain't too hard on the back. Or illegal, of course," Kid added a little too quickly.

At the mention of Heyes Bert was once again on his guard. "This friend of yours, where is he?"

"I don't rightly know, sir," replied Kid, honestly. "I think someone took him; that's why I have his horse with me. And I think the fellas who took him came this way."

"Why would someone want to take your friend?" asked Ida.

"You'd best not be bringin' trouble to our door, son, 'cause if you are then you can be on your way right now." Bert placed both his hands on the edge of the table and was about to stand when Ida once again laid a placating hand on his arm.

"Oh, _I'm_ not in any trouble," Kid hastily reassured him. "But Joshua might be. That's why I have to find him. You see, he likes to play poker - he's real good at it - but some folk, well. . .they don't take too kindly to how much he wins and there are times when that can get him into trouble."

"He some kinda card sharp?"

"Oh no, sir. He plays honest cards."

"What makes you think whoever took him came this way?" asked Bert.

"I was following some tracks and they turned down the road that runs past your farm. How far is it to the nearest town, Mister Beck?"

"Well, Benning is the biggest town near here. It's about forty miles away but there is a smaller one. Woodford. It's closer, if you head due west."

"Er, do either of them have a sheriff's office?" Kid asked, somewhat reluctantly. He had a feeling that, as there was no sheriff in Barrenbrook, whoever had taken Heyes might be looking to turn him in to the nearest one for the reward.

"Both of them do, why? You dodgin' the law? 'Cause if y' are you can—"

"I just wanna report my friend as missin'," Kid replied quickly. "Like I said, I ain't here to cause you any trouble."

"Now Bert!" chided Ida. "Mister Jones had already said he doesn't do anything illegal."

If Kid Curry was honest and, after all, that's what he was trying to be these days, he would have to admit that there were times when he and Heyes had trouble figuring out exactly which side of the law they were on. It was over a year now since Lom Trevors had spoken to the Governor of Wyoming about the amnesty and, although they had stopped robbing banks and trains, they were _still_ dodging sheriffs and _still_ being chased by posses.

Kid was trying his best not to act like an outlaw any more but most of the time he still felt like one.

Bert smiled sheepishly and extended his hand. "Sorry, Mister Jones." Kid shook Bert's hand warmly and the older man looked a little embarrassed. "Guess I'm a might jumpy these days what with all the goin's on in Barrenbrook. That outlaw gang don't help neither."

"An outlaw gang? In these parts?"

"Yes, they held up the railroad — about a month ago, it was." Ida stood up and went over to the dresser where she opened a drawer and pulled out a well thumbed newspaper.

"It says here it was the Wheeler Brothers," she said. "Awful business. They went through the train threatening everyone with their guns, women and children too. Took anything of value and if anyone objected...well, see for yourself." She handed the paper to Kid and pointed to the front page.

Kid read the article with mounting concern. 'Crazy' Joe Wheeler. It was a good few years since he had heard that name and he wondered which one of his three, only slightly less crazy, brothers was riding with him these days.

When he had finished reading Kid Curry dropped the newspaper onto the kitchen table with a frown. He hoped that Wheeler had nothing to do with his cousin's disappearance because, if he did, then Heyes could be in big trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

The rumbling and jolting of the buckboard was not helping Hannibal Heyes' aching head one bit. Coarse rope bound his hands and feet and his right arm was numb where he had been lying on it for, well...he couldn't say how long exactly. He felt a little dizzy too.

The sun felt hot on his face, but even then he could only hazard a guess that it must be an hour or so either side of noon. Noon, on which day? Heyes had to concede he had no idea and he lay there speculating where they were headed and who it might be that had him trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey in the back of this wagon.

Tentatively he prised open one eye and instantly wished he hadn't. As the sunlight hit his retina, he experienced a sudden piercing pain to add to the dull one pounding at the back of his head. An involuntary moan escaped his throat and Heyes quickly shut his eye. Maybe he would wait until it was almost dark before trying that again.

"Hey Joe!" he heard a young voice call from his left. "Think he's comin' round."

Heyes lay as still as he could hoping they would think he had passed out again. He needed time to assess his situation and from past experience he knew that one of the best ways to do that was by pretending to be either unconscious or asleep, and just listen.

A voice from above his head snarked. "He ain't awake."

"Well, I thought I heard 'im groanin'. Did you hear 'im, Nate?"

"Guess you must be hearin' things again," mumbled a voice from Heyes' right.

"I don't hear things!" protested the first voice, angrily. "Don't you go startin' on me, Nate. Tell 'im Joe."

The voice from above his head spoke again. "Shaddup Jimmy or he's gonna wake up. I want 'im to stay quiet. This one's got a reputation for bein' real slippery and I don't plan on losin' ten thousand dollars just 'cause you can't stop yer yappin'."

Ten thousand dollars? Dammit! They must know who he is if they know about the bounty on his head. One thought comforted him, however - they hadn't said twenty thousand so they didn't have the Kid. His spirits lifted. That meant there was a good chance his partner could get him out of this.

By the time the wagon finally came to a halt Heyes realized that he must have drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the day. He had little memory of most of it. With the sun having just disappeared behind the horizon, he tried opening his eyes again. His vision was a little blurry but this time the pain in his head was no worse.

Hearing footsteps he quickly shut his eyes again just before he was manhandled out of the wagon and dropped to the hard ground. Fleetingly, his dizziness increased and he feared he was going to be sick.

"Hey!" The toe of a boot made sharp contact with his ribs. "Time to wake up. C'mon, Heyes. I know ya can't still be out. Ya weren't hit _that_ hard."

Heyes did not respond. He wasn't as accomplished at taking blows or kicks without reacting as the Kid was so he hoped not too many more would follow.

"I sure did wallop 'im good, Joe, just like ya told me to," said the voice Heyes had heard addressed earlier as Jimmy. "Hey, ya don't think I killed 'im, do ya?"

"Jeez, Jimmy. You really are stupid," grouched the voice called Nate. "He's still breathin'. Can't ya see that?"

"Now don't ya go worryin' y'self none, Jimmy," said the first voice. "He's still worth the same even if ya have killed him. We just won't have as much fun if'n he's dead."

Joe. Jimmy. Nate. Heyes tried to fit the three names together to see if they stirred any memories but without success. He still hadn't heard them refer to Kid Curry yet and for that he was grateful.

"D' ya want me to move him over to that tree, Joe?"

Heyes' curiosity was piqued by the advent of a new voice and he almost opened his eyes. Now this one he may have heard before, there was a familiar ring to it.

"Nah, leave him here fer now, he's not goin' nowhere. Y' can tie him up good and tight when we've made camp. I'm sure you'll enjoy makin' him real comfortable." A cackle of laughter.

The men left him alone while they got on with setting up their camp for the night. Heyes wriggled his hands and feet trying to ascertain how well he was tied up. It was no good. The ropes were solid. He'd need to cut them to free himself. Maybe later, while the others slept, he could try to reach the small knife which was concealed within the lining of his boot.

Voices and footsteps approached again and Heyes gasped as what felt like the entire contents of a bucket of water was thrown in his face.

"Ha! He's awake now!" crowed Jimmy, dropping the wooden bucket within inches of the former outlaw's head.

Blinking the water from his eyes Heyes spluttered and coughed as he squinted up at the men who surrounded him. His mouth was so dry that he licked what little water he could as it ran down his face.

"Okay Heyes, now you've had a drink Gil here's gonna make sure you're tucked up real good fer the night," said Joe with a grin.

The man Joe had referred to stepped forward and stared down at him, his face expressionless. Heyes groaned inwardly. He knew Gil Tatson — not all that well — but he knew him.

"Howdy, Gil," he said, with a humourless smile.

Years ago, he and Gil had been a couple of young greenhorns taken on to boost the numbers in Jim Plummer's gang for a big bank job. That gang had eventually split up and Heyes had forgotten about Gil until a few years' later when the very same man had tried to become a member of the Devil's Hole Gang.

Tatson had almost got himself shot riding into the Hole uninvited. The Kid hadn't trusted him from the start but Heyes, through a sense of misguided loyalty, had been willing to give him a chance. That was until Kyle had told him that Gil was boasting to the boys in the bunkhouse about killing the driver of a stagecoach during a robbery. The very next morning Kid and Lucky Johnson had escorted him to what was deemed to be the boundary of Devil's Hole canyon and sent him on his way.

If there was one rule that Heyes insisted every member of the Devil's Hole Gang obeyed to the letter it was that none of his men killed people, even if it had been way back in their sorry past. In all the robberies the gang had pulled nobody had ever been shot. Heyes was proud of the reputation they had earned in this regard and he made sure it stayed that way.

The only exception he was prepared to make to this rule was his partner, Kid Curry.

Heyes had always had a gut feeling that when they were apart for a few years, sometime in their early twenties, the Kid had been involved in a shooting over in Carson City, maybe one in Dodge too. He had never been able to find the right moment to bring up the subject with his cousin so he just kept his suspicions to himself. Besides, in his early days as leader he had really needed the Kid and his reputation with a gun, to back him up.

Ironically, over the past year as they pursued their quest for amnesty Heyes had been witness to Kid Curry being driven to shoot to kill on a couple of occasions. He knew this was something his cousin was not proud of and had only done out of absolute necessity. It was to be hoped he wouldn't feel the need to do so when he caught up with this bunch.

Gil Tatson was a big man and made easy work of hauling Heyes over to a tree. He shoved him forcibly against the trunk thereby trapping his already aching arms and sore wrists against the rough bark.

"If you're tying me to a tree you could at least tie my hands in front," Heyes rasped through his still dry throat.

"Nope."

"But, I'm not gonna get loose, not if you—." Heyes winced as a long length of rope was pulled tight against his ribs and wrapped several times around him and the tree.

Gil finished knotting the rope on the far side of the trunk and stepped round to sneer at him.

"Joe don't wanna hear a peep outta you, Heyes. So keep your mouth shut or I'll gag ya."

Heyes glared at him but stayed silent. The last thing he wanted was a filthy bandana sucking out what little moisture remained in his already dry mouth.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

"Sakes alive! Who cooked these beans? We might as well be eatin' buckshot," grumbled Nate.

"They ain't like buckshot." Jimmy sounded hurt. "I cooked em' fer as long as I was told to."

"Who told ya? One of them voices ya keep hearin'?" laughed Nate, enjoying goading the youngster.

"I don't hear no voices!"

"Shaddup, will ya," growled Joe. He looked over his shoulder and pouted theatrically. "Our friend Heyes needs some peace and quiet. He's had a bit of a bump on the head." He roared with laughter and the other three joined in.

Heyes sighed to himself but didn't respond. He didn't even bother opening his eyes. Apart from the fact that Joe was right, he did need some peace and quiet to help his thumping headache, he had decided that for the time being he would not interact with his captors any more than he had to. It was becoming clear that they had no intention of giving him any food and so far the only water he had been given was the bucketful that had been thrown in his face so he decided he would try and conserve what little energy he had for when the Kid showed up.

Despite his desire to sleep Heyes was awake for most of the night. He was cold, hungry and very thirsty and his ribs ached from being tied so tightly to the tree. It hadn't taken long before he had lost all feeling in his arms and hands and he could only guess that he must have rubbed his wrists bloody on the ropes in his attempt to loosen them. Unfortunately, he had been tied up enough times in the past to know that eventually your hands, arms, or legs go white and numb as a result of being tied up the same way for too long and he tried not to think about the tales he had heard of people who hadn't regained the use of their fingers or even lost a limb in precisely these kind of circumstances.

No matter how he looked at it he saw no chance of getting free anytime soon. Attempting to persuade them that they had the wrong man and that he was just plain old Joshua Smith would be a complete waste of breath. They knew who he was, sure enough. Gil Tatson had identified him. Right now, his only glimmer of hope was that he could try being friendly to the young one. Jimmy was it? He might be susceptible to his silver tongue if the right situation presented itself.

Heyes wondered what Kid Curry was doing now. He figured that initially his partner would assume he was still in town and he had to face the fact that it could take him days to find out what had happened and that was if anyone had actually seen him being taken, which he doubted. If Kid didn't find him before they reached a town and from Joe's remark about the bounty on his head, it looked very much like he was going to end up in jail.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The sun had just risen, chasing away the night clouds and spilling its warming rays toward Hannibal Heyes as he watched, with some apprehension, young Jimmy make his way over to the tree carrying the wooden bucket.

Assuming he was going to get another faceful of water Heyes braced himself but surprisingly, the youth produced a tin cup, dipped it in the bucket and held it out to him.

Heyes did his best to give him a friendly smile. "Thanks. Can you help me out here, I can't rightly take it from you."

Jimmy hesitated then held the cup to Heyes' parched lips, watching as he gulped the water greedily.

"Want s' more?"

Breathless, Heyes nodded and the cup was dipped into the bucket again. He had almost finished drinking the second cup when Joe looked up from his bedroll.

"Hey! How much o' that water ya been givin' him?" he yelled.

"He's drunk two whole cups, Joe. Guess he was real thirsty," grinned Jimmy.

Joe shook his head and pulled himself to his feet as the other men began to stir.

"Go rustle up some bacon, boy," Joe growled as he joined Jimmy at the tree. With a scowl he watched the youngster's retreating figure. "Dang chucklehead."

He then turned to Heyes and addressed him with mock civility. "Well, it's sure nice to have ya with us, Mister Heyes. I do hope ya spent a comfortable night?"

"Now you come to mention it, Joe," ventured Heyes, keeping his tone light. "I could do with changing my position, just for a couple of hours, say. You see, I'm kinda stiff from leaning back against this tree all night." He grimaced as he shifted his shoulders what little he could to illustrate the point.

"Aaaww, Gil musta forgot to give ya that feather pillow like I told him," said Joe sarcastically.

"C'mon now, Joe," Heyes cajoled. "No sense in making this so unpleasant. I've never done you any harm."

Joe's eyes narrowed. "Never done me any harm, eh? Sure about that, are ya?"

Heyes frowned as he considered this. "Well, yeah. I don't recall us meeting before. I'm sure I'd remember if we had."

Joe sat down on a nearby rock and his eyes hardened.

"Ya really don't know who I am, do ya?"

"You're Joe," Heyes stated matter-of-factly, feigning confidence.

"M' name's Joe, alright. Joe Wheeler." He let this information sink in for a few seconds. "Some folks call me 'Crazy Joe'. Can't say as I know why." Joe smiled, revealing a set of teeth as erratic and unstable as himself.

Heyes' breath caught in his throat but he disguised it with a cough. 'Crazy' Joe Wheeler! His situation was worse than he had first thought and at this very moment the nearest jail cell was starting to look like a very welcome prospect.

He wondered what Wheeler was doing so far from home. His gang worked up in Colorado — hardly ever ventured outside the state — but he hadn't heard of them pulling any jobs for quite some time.

"Well, Heyes. D' y' know me now?"

Heyes nodded. "Yeah, I've heard of you. Still don't understand why you'd want to go knocking out a fellow outlaw and tying him to a tree."

"Yer dissapointin' me Heyes. All the things I heard about ya, I thought y'd be real smart." Joe paused and Heyes blinked questioningly at him. "I'm gonna turn ya in, o' course! For the _re_ -ward." Joe shook his head in disbelief. "Sheesh!"

"Turn me in?! But, I thought us outlaws all felt the same way about the law. Heck, I sure wouldn't even _think_ of turning _you_ in, Joe. You know, honour among thieves an' all."

"Honour!" Jo yelled. "You talkin' to me about honour?! Why ya—!"

Without warning Joe leapt to his feet and struck Heyes hard across the face with the back of his hand.

At Joe's sudden outburst the other men stopped what they were doing around the campfire as they turned to watch. A few whistles and hoots cut through the still morning air.

Despite being bound so tightly the force of the blow pushed Heyes sideways against his bindings and he gasped as his still aching head snapped to one side. Tasting blood his tongue searched his bottom lip for the salty trickle.

"Okay, okay," he said huskily, spitting the blood from his mouth while his brown eyes carefully followed the man who was now agitatedly pacing back and forth. "You're obviously holding a grudge. Wanna tell me what this is all about?"

"You wanna know, do ya?" Joe ground his right fist into his left palm nodding to himself. Heyes momentarily closed his eyes, hoping that the fist was not going to come his way. He opened them when Joe spoke again. "Okay. Listen Heyes, and listen good."

Silently reflecting that probably the sensible thing would have been not to ask, Heyes gave Joe his undivided attention.

"It'd be 'bout five years ago now. Me and the boys was all set to rob a pay train, a _real_ _big_ one," Jo began. "It was headin' fer Fort Collins so we figured we'd hit it on that slow turn; you know the one, just outside o' Longmont. There was gonna be more money on that there train than we'd ever dreamed of. Guess y' know what that feels like, don't ya Heyes? Loads o' money like that?

"When the day came we was ready, lyin' in wait but we wasn't the only ones. Can ya guess who else figured they'd rob that pay train? Can ya, Heyes?"

Realization dawned and Heyes rolled his eyes. "Now, how could I have known you were planning to hold up that train, Joe?" he reasoned.

"The train was in Colorado. _We_ worked Colorado. _You_ worked Wyoming," said Joe through clenched teeth. "That train was ours!"

Joe stopped pacing and took a step toward Heyes who couldn't help but pull away slightly in anticipation of another stinging blow. "Anyways, shaddup! I ain't finished tellin' the story!" He resumed pacing.

"We just thought the train was runnin' late. Waited there like little ducks sittin' on a lake. That was 'til the posse came outta nowhere. Chased us down, mile after mile. They didn't even bother lookin' fer the Devil's Hole Gang." Joe nodded his head sagely. "Naw, they figured _we'd_ done robbed that train. Didn't know you'd cleaned it out afore it even got near us!"

Bizarrely, at that very moment Heyes was glad that his mouth hurt or he might have been tempted to smile. Joe was wrong. Wyoming wasn't the Devil's Hole Gang's only haunt, they had robbed trains and banks in Colorado — a lot — and he remembered that particular job well.

The detailed planning and split-second timing ensured the whole thing went like clockwork.

Kid and Lobo had jumped on the train as it slowed at Angler's Bend and had overpowered the two marshals on duty in the mail car without a single shot being fired. The tree trunks that the boys had dragged across the rails had stopped the engine without incident and Heyes couldn't help but recall, with ineffable smugness, how he had cracked the safe in minutes.

Joe was right about one thing though, there had been a lot of money on that train and he, Kid, and the boys had enjoyed spending all of it.

Heyes had always been puzzled as to why no posse had come after them that day. Now he knew.

"We kept ahead of that posse, everyone 'cept fer my brother, Jack," continued Joe. "They shot him right offa his horse. Didn't kill him. No, no. They just patched him up then tried him fer murder. A real fancy lawyer for the railroad told the judge some cockamamie story; said Jack had killed two people on the same train the month before. D' ya know what happened then?"

Joe stopped pacing. "I bet ya know the answer." He stared at Heyes.

Heyes stared back.

Taking a step towards the bound man, Joe grasped a fistful of his blue shirt and yelled, "Say it!"

"They hanged him?"

"That's right. Hanged him like he was some no-good, cold-blooded killer!"

The thought that Jack Wheeler probably was a cold-blooded killer crossed Heyes' mind but he sensibly kept his opinion to himself.

Joe narrowed his eyes and let go of Heyes' shirt.

"Fifty thousand dollars _and_ my brother. That's what you and your good-fer-nothin' shootist partner took from me. Now, me and the boys well. . .we're gonna hafta be content with only twenty thousand when we turn you and Curry in and I'll just hafta come up with some other way _you_ can make up the other thirty. Maybe ya can provide a little entertainment for me and the boys?"

Joe cackled with laughter at that thought. He had already caught the faint look of unease cross Heyes' face at the mention of his partner before the former outlaw could mask it.

"Well now, ya didn't think we'd be content with just _you_ , did ya?! Naw. We're gonna turn ya both in, but it's only you who's gonna be goin' to that hellhole of a prison, Heyes, 'cause I'm gonna make sure ya find out exactly what losin' a brother feels like." Joe sneered. "Curry is like a brother to ya, ain't he?"

Heyes' eyes glittered dangerously. Wheeler could do what he liked to him but threatening to kill his partner well, that was another matter. He tried to breath slowly and swallow his mounting anger.

"How come you're so sure the Kid will find me, Joe? I mean, you took me in the middle of the night. Now, he's good at tracking, but he's not _that_ good. He won't have a clue where to start looking," Heyes reasoned.

Joe gave an uneven toothy grin. "Oh, he'll find ya, as long as that boy does his job proper. Tells the story like he's supposed to."

"What boy? What story?" asked Heyes.

"The boy from the general store. He's got a real good story to tell. He knows what Curry looks like and where he's stayin', so he'll tell him. I figure he'll be on his way pretty soon. Meantime..." Joe looked over his shoulder as he turned to walk back to the campfire. "...I'm just gonna have me some breakfast."

He tilted his chin upwards and inhaled deeply. "Mmmm, that bacon sure smells good, Heyes." He laughed. Then, his expression changed to a snarl. "Pity you ain't havin' none."


	3. Chapter 3

The Wheeler Gang made short work of packing up their camp and while Joe and Nate hitched up the wagon and saddled the horses Jimmy held a gun on Heyes while Gil untied him from the tree and pulled him to his feet.

Heyes' ankles were still tied so he swayed slightly as he tried to balance. The sudden change of position made the dizziness return and his arms felt like they didn't belong to him anymore.

"Er Gil,. . .I know I ain't had much water but I kinda need to. . .." said Heyes ruefully as he glanced down towards his fly.

"Aaaww," grumbled Gil with a grimace. "Well, I ain't helpin' ya do that! Here, gimme that gun," he ordered. " _You_ do it."

Jimmy handed over his gun then looked at the older man, nonplussed. "Do what?"

Gil nodded towards Heyes. "He needs some help."

"Huh?"

Heyes rolled his eyes then said. "I need to pee, Jimmy."

Jimmy frowned. "Oohh. Can't we untie him, so's he can do it fer hisself?"

Gil considered this for a moment then, holding him by the arm, he roughly turned Heyes around to face the tree.

"I guess while I have him covered you can untie his hands. Don't you try anythin' Heyes, y' hear?"

Jimmy frowned in concentration as he proceeded to fuss with the knots, not helped by the dried blood from Heyes raw wrists, but he eventually undid them and pulled the rope free.

As Heyes' arms fell loose he couldn't help but cry out as a sensation, not unlike hot molten metal, seared through what he had thought to be numb shoulders and sped down his arms in an agonizing mixture of pain and pins and needles. He tried flexing his fingers but no feeling had reached them yet. If he'd had any designs on making a grab for Gil's gun he now knew that he probably wouldn't have succeeded.

"C'mon, we ain't got all day," griped Gil pushing the barrel of Jimmy's pistol into Heyes' back.

Heyes managed to move his painful arms but his usually nimble fingers proved useless and he fumbled with the buttons on his trousers. He shook his head and looked at Jimmy. "I can't feel anything. If you just undo the buttons I can manage the rest."

Gil nodded. "Go ahead, Jimmy, undo his pants." The gun barrel moved up to the base of Heyes' skull and he heard the ominous click of the hammer being cocked. "Move any part of ya I'm not expectin' and I'll put a slug in ya."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me get on with it. I ain't too partial to having an audience, you know," grumbled Heyes, who really was in too much discomfort to worry about a bullet.

His personal needs seen to, Jimmy once again helped Heyes with his fly and picked up the piece of rope to retie his hands. Heyes slowly angled his arms out in front of him and put his wrists together.

"Not that way, Jimmy," said Gil, moving to one side to give the boy room.

"Aaww, come on," Heyes' arms were paining him so badly he couldn't keep the pleading tone from his voice. "I can't go anywhere. Look, my feet are tied and my hands are numb. I can't _do anything_!"

The boy hesitated and looked from Heyes to Gil. "His hands do look awful white."

Heyes silently sent a word of thanks to the heavens when at last Gil nodded begrudgingly. Hoping neither of them would notice, Heyes pulled his wrists apart slightly just as Jimmy began to tie the rope. This was a trick the former outlaw had used before. It enabled him to gain a little more room to work any bindings loose. It also helped maintain blood flow.

He was still in the process of congratulating himself on his small turn of fortune when Joe looked over from where he stood by the wagon.

"What's the hold-up?"

"Just comin', Joe," answered Jimmy.

"Hey! What ya doin' tying him up like that? Hands behind him like I told ya!" remonstrated Joe.

Jimmy undid the rope again and Heyes couldn't help but groan as his painful arms were once more wrenched behind him and tightly bound.

Once he had been heaved onto the buckboard Heyes shifted himself backwards so that he sat with his back to the corner and wouldn't put too much pressure on his hands. He looked around him in the hope that this was where he had left his hat. It was nowhere to be seen.

"Anyone seen my hat?" he asked as the wagon started to bounce its way along the track.

Joe looked over his shoulder from where he was driving the wagon. "Aaww, sorry Heyes. Looks like you've gone and lost it. Shame! And it's shapin' up to be a real hot day too." He faced forward again, grinning to himself.

Hannibal Heyes' eyes burned into Joe's back before he closed them to the bright sunlight. Joe was right, it was going to be hot. Even just sitting here he was starting to sweat. This would be his second day in the blazing sun without a hat and with only having drunk two small cups of water. He knew from having spent time in the desert that things could turn bad really fast if you were exposed to the sun all day, especially without water, or a hat.

Heyes tried to take his mind off how much he was hurting and how thirsty he felt. He forced himself to concentrate — plan something complex — and gave an indifferent mental shrug at his questionable choice of subject.

 _How about robbing the Denver Mint?_

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

That same morning, the new dawn was barely noticeable in the eastern sky as Kid Curry rode away from the Beck's farm.

He had thanked Bert and Ida for their hospitality the night before and packed the pieces of fried chicken, hardboiled eggs and biscuits Ida had wrapped for him into his saddlebags. He would eat them later. Right now, concern over his missing partner made him just want to get back on the trail again.

Kid wondered if Heyes had been given anything to eat but, deep down, he knew he would probably be lucky to be offered anything more than the occasional drink of water. After all, the wording 'Dead or Alive' on their Wanted posters did not give people much incentive to turn them over to the law in good condition.

The trail left by the damaged wagon wheel was still easy to follow and it became clear to Kid that the gang must be avoiding Woodford and heading through the hills to Benning. He nudged his horse into a lope cursing his partner's mare who today didn't appear to like being led at any pace faster than a walk. _Jeez._ _Leading this puddin' foot will sure have my left shoulder achin' something awful by sundown_ , he thought.

Kid stayed on the trail all day and by the time the sun was about to set he was deep in the hills that he had seen in the distance that morning. Wishing to set up camp before nightfall he ventured a little way off the trail in the hope of finding a stream with some grazing for the horses.

He hadn't strayed far when he saw a tumbledown shack next to a small thicket of prickly ash and his keen hearing detected the welcome trickle of running water nearby.

Upon reaching the first of the trees Curry jumped down from his saddle and tied both animals' reins to one of the knobby branches. Both horses immediately dipped their heads and began pulling at whatever grass they could find. Long hours on the trail had taught them to take every opportunity, no matter how fleeting, to graze.

With his hand resting on the butt of his gun, Kid advanced warily toward the old wooden building. In the fast approaching darkness he flattened himself against one of the old grey weather-beaten walls.

"Anyone there?" he called.

Silence was the only reply so he drew his gun and seized the door handle. The old hinges creaked loudly in protest as he pushed it open. Stepping inside, the stale dusty air caught in his throat, making him cough.

Inside, it was too dark to see properly so he reached into his pocket for a box of matches. Striking one on the doorframe, it burst into life and he held it aloft. The match extinguished itself as he hastily took a couple of steps backwards in alarm. He wasn't certain but...was that dynamite on the table? Kid struck another match but this time approached the doorway with a little more caution.

Peering into the room he focussed his attention on the table underneath the tiny window and what looked like several sticks of dynamite. Just before the flame burned down to his fingers he spied what looked to be an old pocketknife. Lighting yet another match he realised that the 'dynamite' was surrounded by wood shavings and breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't dynamite, just pieces of wood whittled smooth by someone with a lot of time on their hands.

Kid returned to the horses and led them around to the rear of the shack so that they could drink from the stream while he hobbled and unsaddled them. He then filled his canteens and poked around in the bottom of Heyes' saddlebags for a candle. For as long as they had been riding together, Heyes had carried at least one, or a small piece of one, as it came in useful for easing stubborn windows as well as providing just enough light to crack a safe by.

Both horses raised their heads at Kid's loud "Aah, ha!" when his search eventually produced a two inch long piece of wax but they quickly returned to cropping the small patch of grass when he gathered up the bedrolls and saddlebags and strode away into the darkness.

The blackened wick on the piece of candle sputtered into life and Kid Curry took a closer look at the shack's interior. Apart from being filthy, it looked as if it had been unoccupied for some time. There was a small bunk at one end complete with a very musty smelling straw mattress, a table under the window with a single chair, and a small cupboard. He pulled at the handle to open the cupboard taking the whole door off in the process and provoking a sudden burst of scuttling from the small creatures therein.

Pretty much everything in the cupboard had been chewed by mice whose evidence was everywhere. Kid wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell. Prising open a tin box he was pleased to find some candles in it but, apart from a tin plate, a cup and an odd collection of cutlery, there was nothing else to be found.

Kid lit one of the new candles and having dripped some of the melted wax onto the plate he stuck the candle to it. _Now Heyes won't gripe at me for using up one of his precious stubs_ , he thought as he extinguished the flame from his partner's candle. Holding the makeshift candlestick aloft Curry's attention was then drawn to the corner by the door where he noticed another box. This one was also metal but it was a lot bigger than the one that held the candles.

Placing the candle on the table he picked up the box. It wasn't heavy but there was something inside. There was only one problem — it had a small padlock holding it shut. He drew his gloved hand through the wood shavings on the table and smiled to himself as he came across a nail lying amongst them.

"Okay Heyes," he muttered, "Let's see if I can remember what you tried to teach me." And with that, Kid Curry picked up the nail and proceeded to pick the padlock.

What probably would have taken his partner mere seconds took Kid about fifteen minutes of intense concentration but he was still quite pleased that he had even remembered how to do it.

Flipping up the lid of the box Kid Curry peered inside. _Oh, now that is definitely dynamite!_ Three sticks of it together with a small roll of fuse. He carefully slid the box away from the lit candle.

Despite all the safes they had blown Kid still disliked handling explosives. He had always been more than happy to leave that side of the business to Heyes who was cautious and smart enough to know how to handle it and Kyle who was, in all probability, too stupid to appreciate the risks.

He closed the lid of the box and was just about to return it to its place on the floor when he had an idea.

Taking out the roll of fuse he placed it on the table with the sticks and wood shavings. He then gathered several of the smoothly carved sticks together and, with a piece of string he found on the floor, tied them tightly together in a bundle. Chewing his lip in concentration Kid then cut a length of the fuse and carefully pushed one end of it deep into the bundle, leaving about a foot or so hanging outside.

"Well Heyes, I guess some of the genius you're always bragging about has finally rubbed off on me," Curry said out loud as, with a satisfied smile, he tossed the bogus bundle of dynamite in his hand.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

After the extreme heat of the day, darkness brought a contrasting chill and it was making Heyes shiver. He was once again tied to a large tree but still too far away from the campfire to feel any warmth from the flames.

The slow progress of the buckboard and its rocking from side to side over the uneven ground had not helped his nausea one bit so when they had once again neglected to give him any food he had not been overly disappointed. However, a little discreet cajoling from his parched silver tongue had persuaded Jimmy to give him a drink of water from a canteen when the others weren't looking. It was only a couple of mouthfuls but it was better than nothing.

As they had pulled him from the wagon Heyes knew he had to shake off the drowsiness that was threatening to envelop him and he made every effort to rouse himself in order take a good look at his surroundings. He needed to be as familiar with the lie of the land as possible in order to help the Kid should he attempt a rescue here.

They were camped to the side of a clearing with the trail they had been following running through the middle of it. The clearing was bordered by boulders on one side and the other side rose up a gradual, gravelly slope which was littered with rocks and scrub.

The more he looked around, the more Heyes was sure they had stopped at this particular location on purpose. There was a small pool of water for the horses and a couple of large trees for shelter as well as all the rocks for cover. Heyes' tree was not far from the pool but his back was toward the clearing and he knew that from this position it would not be possible for him to see the Kid and shout a warning to him as he rode in. This also meant that he was facing the water. _Joe's idea of a cruel joke, no doubt_ , he thought, bitterly before his thoughts changed to ones of concern. _Be careful, Jed. Don't go getting yourself killed trying to save my sorry hide._

Shaking his head to himself Heyes recalled how Kid Curry would, without the slightest hesitation, plough headlong into danger with little regard for his own safety. He had literally lost count of the number of occasions when he had been called out over a poker game and Kid had found a reason to stand up in his place in order to beat Heyes' accuser to the draw; or the times he had shot a gun out of someone's hand — a gun that had been aimed straight at Heyes' heart. He also recalled the hours Kid had spent nursing him after he had been injured, or been sweating and shivering with a wound fever. The man had even shot a mountain lion in mid-air as it leaped to attack him!

He owed his partner his life, many times over.

Heyes knew that he had played his part in Curry's survival too, but in a very different way. It was he who worked out how to get them out of jail either by picking a lock or concocting a plan; or lead them on some labyrinthine route to escape the clutches of a posse or bounty hunter. Saving his cousin from a Mexican firing squad came high on this list too. He had done his fair share of removing bullets and tending wounds too but, to Heyes, somehow all this didn't seem quite as impressive as facing the barrel of a gun for your partner.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Kid Curry had been grateful to have his sheepskin jacket provide an extra layer as he slept. While he set out his bedroll his eyes had strayed to Heyes' grey coat and he couldn't help wondering if his cousin even had a blanket to protect him from the night air.

Despite having the shack in which to shelter he had chosen to sleep outdoors rather than on the old mattress. He didn't much like the idea of spending the night in the company of rodents, not to mention countless other vermin. After a hasty breakfast comprising solely of the last of Ida's fried chicken, he picked up the trail again at first light.

By mid afternoon the hills were changing from rolling to rocky which meant Curry now spent longer watching his surroundings than studying the trail. Well aware that this sort of country would be perfect for an ambush he slowed the horses to a walk.

His quick glances at the ground still recognized the marks of the wagon's damaged wheel together with the following horses, but as he looked further ahead where the trail opened out into a clearing, he thought the ground looked a little more disturbed. Glancing up at the surrounding terrain he decided it might be a better idea to explore on foot so he dismounted, tied the two horses to a large rock and slung his saddlebags over his left shoulder. Revolver firmly grasped in his hand Kid darted from boulder to boulder as he kept the wagon tracks in sight.

Instinctively staying low as he approached the clearing Kid crouched down to examine the ground. He had been right; it looked like two people had dismounted here. There were numerous foot and hoof prints together with a double groove which looked like it might have been made by the heels of a pair of boots. Had someone had been dragged across the clearing from the wagon? Could it be Heyes?

Kid took a good look around, numerous possibilities crowding his thoughts, when suddenly he heard a horse nicker. The sound didn't come from behind him so he figured it wasn't either of his. In all probability, this was where they had holed up and were lying in wait for him.

Silently, he slid behind a large group of rocks.

That same morning Heyes had been woken from an uncomfortable and fitful sleep by a flurry of activity and he tried desperately to twist around within his bindings to see what was going on.

The horses and the wagon were being moved further along the track out of sight while the campfire was being extinguished. The outlaws appeared to be checking and re-checking their weapons plus there was a feeling of tension and expectation in the air. It didn't take him long to conclude that they were readying themselves to ambush the Kid and with this thought his own heartbeat also increased.

One thing had come as a surprise — they had at last bound his hands in front of him. He had, however, been dismayed and annoyed at his inability to stop himself from retching at the sickening pain in his arms and shoulders as he changed position.

Unable to see in all directions, one thing Heyes failed to notice was the long length of rope which had been thrown over a sturdy branch of the tree he was tied to.


	4. Chapter 4

Rotating the cylinder of his Colt .45 Kid Curry checked that each chamber was loaded before closing the loading gate with a deft flick of his thumb. He quickly ran his fingers along his gun belt feeling each loop, counting the remaining bullets. There were enough for three full loads. He settled himself behind the largest rock he could find, shifted round onto his left hip in order to get a more comfortable balanced position, and waited.

It wasn't long before he heard the shout he knew would come. They had to know he was there, somewhere, hidden among the rocks.

"Hey, Curry! I know yer out there. Bin waitin' for ya."

Kid didn't recognize the voice but he guessed it had to be 'Crazy' Joe Wheeler. Anyway, it looked like whoever it was had been expecting him. He drew in a breath but didn't answer; he didn't want to give them a clear indication of his position, just yet. His sharp blue eyes searched intently for the slightest movement. The rocks encircling the clearing made the voice bounce around so he was unable to pinpoint accurately where it was coming from.

"Curry! Got somebody here been givin' us the pleasure of his company. I think ya mighta made his acquaintance." Joe laughed at his own witticism.

It took all of Kid's self-control to remain in place and not make a run across the clearing, gun blazing, to seek out his partner. That was what Joe wanted him to do and he was well aware of the odds of him being cut down doing it. He wanted to try and work out exactly where each man was before he attempted any kind of action.

"Curry! Yer gonna hafta come out sooner or later. Tell y' what. I'm gonna dangle a little bait; see if I can make y' decide on 'sooner'. Would ya like that, Curry? Would that work fer ya?"

Kid gritted his teeth.

Movement on the opposite side of the clearing drew his attention and he watched a man stumble out from behind a large tree. Kid knew immediately that it was Heyes.

Now gagged with a bandana and with his hands tied together in front of him, Heyes was being hauled up by his wrists attached to a long rope — the very same one that had been thrown over the tree branch. Kid gave an irritated grunt as he realized he had no line of sight to the men on the other end of the rope.

He then saw something that made his heart feel like it had jumped up into his throat and was attempting to cut off his air.

The rope wasn't just tied around his partner's hands, it was also looped around his neck. And, now that he had noticed it, he could see that Heyes was holding on to the rope with his bound hands and having to pull himself up on it to prevent it from tightening.

"See what I mean 'bout danglin' some bait?" The laugh rang out once more. "Now. Heyes here, well, he ain't too comfortable right now. I guess ya can see that fer yerself. If he holds on... I said _'if'_ , Curry, he might be able to stop hisself from hangin' but he's gonna get tired. Maybe he'll just cut his hands to pieces on the rope first. Hey! We'll just hafta wait an' see. Excitin' ain't it?"

Kid tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. He could feel his temper and anxiety rising in equal measure and he knew he was breathing too fast, too fast to aim steady. Slowly, he focussed on the job in hand and tried to detach himself from his emotions, exactly like he did when someone called him out.

The voice came again. "Curry! Curry, yer lookin'? Now ain't that a sight to behold? The great Hannibal Heyes dangling before our very eyes! Hey! We're thinkin' of placin' bets here on how long Heyes is gonna last before he has to let go. We'll let ya in on the action, if ya want." Another guffaw.

Kid didn't doubt that under normal circumstances Heyes would be strong enough to hold himself up there for a while but, with the gag in his mouth limiting the amount of air he could take in, he knew he would tire quickly. There was also the question of his partner's physical condition; he might be hurting from a beating or weakened from lack of food or water. Kid knew he was going to have to act fast or Heyes was going to hang for certain.

Despite the target being small and almost exceeding the range for his Colt, Kid's first shot nicked the rope which was still swinging a little from side to side.

Curry cursed at the miss then aimed carefully for a second shot. "Hold still, Heyes," he murmured.

It was as if Heyes had heard the words but in reality he had only heard the shot and the whistle of the bullet as it passed just above his head. If the Kid was going to get a clean shot he knew that he had to make the rope hang still. Pain seared across his shoulders and through every muscle and sinew in his arms which were beginning to shake with the effort of holding up the rest of him. It also didn't help that he couldn't feel the rope his numb fingers were trying to grip.

With a supreme effort Heyes tried to ignore the pain together with the terrifying sensation of the rope tightening around his neck. He drew as deep a breath as he was able, took what he hoped was a firm hold and let his body hang straight.

Curry fired.

Heyes hit the ground with a loud grunt. Although his feet were free his knees still buckled beneath him and he pitched headfirst into the dirt. Frantically he tried to get his fingers to pull at the gag in his mouth. It was tight; he had tasted blood as Gil had tied it. At last he tore the bandana free, took a couple of much needed breaths then yelled with as much volume as his dry throat could muster.

"Two here, two — your left. Big rocks."

Barely taking his eyes off his partner Kid aimed three more shots towards the tree. Heyes knew he was trying to give him a chance to get clear and, despite not having moved his legs much the last few days, he scrambled toward the cover of some nearby rocks.

As the men behind the tree returned fire Kid shook out the five empty bullet casings and re-loaded. He looked up, pinpointing two muzzle flashes this time from the other direction as shots pinged off the boulder near his head. He had figured that the voice hadn't come from behind the tree. Now he was certain he knew where Wheeler was.

Keeping a wary eye on the clearing Curry groped in the saddlebags which lay next to him. First he pulled out some saddle strings and stuffed them into his pocket. Then he took out the bundle of fake dynamite and a box of matches. Hoping that this trick would buy him some much-needed time he struck a match and lit the end of the length of fuse attached to the sticks. The fuse spat and fizzed. Curry quickly raised his head to peer over the rocks then lobbed the bundle to his left, and he hoped, toward Joe Wheeler.

There was a brief moment of silence before a cry of alarm echoed around the clearing and Joe and Jimmy both broke cover as they attempted to flee, scrambling up the rough slope behind them.

Kid fired two quick shots.

Jimmy shrieked as he took a bullet just above his left knee. He dropped his gun, which slid down the slope and out of his reach, before grasping his bleeding leg with both hands. The other shot hit Joe's gun hand instantly turning his wrist into a tangle of blood and broken bones and sending his gun flying into the air. He yelled in pain and anger as he strove to get clear of the expected explosion.

Kid rapidly pushed two bullets into his gun's spent chambers. Now that the threat of a crossfire had passed he glanced over to the small cluster of rocks on the other side of the clearing where Heyes had taken refuge, sub-consciously measuring the distance and how fast he would have to run in order to make it over there in one full load.

He let the two men behind the tree get off a few more shots. In the brief lull that followed Kid darted out from behind his boulder and sprinted across the clearing fanning the hammer of his Colt and firing all six bullets toward the men behind the tree. The rapid barrage of shots was enough to deter them from returning fire.

A plume of dirt flew into the air as Curry slid feet first behind the cluster of rocks. Heyes coughed as the dust made contact with his already dry throat.

"What. . .kept you?" he rasped.

Curry flashed him a grin as he reloaded. Straightening his hat he glanced at his partner noting the livid red marks around his neck and the fresh trail of blood running down his arms from his wrists.

"Just four of 'em, huh?"

"Uh huh."

Kid peered around a boulder and pulled back sharply as a bullet took a chunk out of it next to his head. The next time he tried that he waited a fraction of a second longer enabling him to catch a glimpse his target. He returned fire. His bullet skimmed the bark of the tree on one side and a shirt sleeve on the other shattering Nate's collar bone and embedding itself in his shoulder. Nate dropped his gun and fell backwards.

"You there!" shouted Kid, knowing that there was only one man left uninjured. "If y' don't want to end up like your friends throw your gun out, and his, nice and far."

Having also seen Kid's prowess with a gun during his short time at Devil's Hole Gil Tatson knew that, alone, he was certainly no match for Kid Curry so he threw the weapons as far as he could into the clearing.

"Good," continued Kid. "Now come out so I can see ya. Slowly. Don't do anything stupid and you won't get hurt."

Gil raised his hands and stepped out from behind the tree. Watching from behind the boulder Kid was relieved to see the man had elected to take the sensible option.

"Stand still," he ordered. Gil complied.

"Stay here, Heyes." Kid instructed before jogging out into the open.

Pressing the barrel of his gun firmly in the middle of Gil's back Kid ushered him back to the tree to check on the man with the wounded shoulder. He noticed a piece of discarded rope on the ground and nudged it with his foot.

"Tie him up," he ordered Gil giving the man's back an encouraging prod. "And make it good." Gil did as he was told despite the cries of protest from his fellow gang member.

Not wishing to holster his gun Kid decided to have Gil tie up the remaining two outlaws so he pushed the big man in front of him and they made their way across the clearing toward where he had last seen Joe and Jimmy.

Jimmy was still lying where he had fallen. Tears streaked his frightened face as he gripped his injured leg with trembling hands in a vain attempt to stem the blood that was soaking his trouser leg.

There was no sign of Joe Wheeler.

"Don't you move, kid" Curry told the boy needlessly while he scanned the area for the missing man.

It wasn't long before Joe's voice came from behind a blood smeared rock about thirty yards away.

"Y' ain't got me yet, Curry!" he yelled with a wild laugh.

"C'mon now, that hand of yours must be bleedin' real bad. Why don't you come out. Get it fixed up?" coaxed Kid.

"And let ya gun me down? Uh, uh. I ain't comin' out. I got a big score to settle with Heyes. And you."

Kid saw the glint of the gun barrel a fraction of a second before Joe pulled the trigger and he threw himself flat on the ground. Either Gil didn't see it, or his reactions weren't as quick as Kid's, because Joe's wild left-handed shot hit him in the chest and the big man dropped liked a felled tree.

Rolling to his left Kid tried to find cover but there was none close enough — he would have to run for it. Knowing he had five more shots before he had to reload he fired four in quick succession as he high-tailed it behind the scant cover of a small bush.

While Kid was occupied loading his five remaining bullets Joe took his chance. With his bleeding right arm pressed against his chest he grasped his pistol firmly in his left hand and, driven by the overwhelming desire for revenge, made his way quickly from rock to rock straight towards Kid. He was determined that either Heyes or Curry was going to die, it no longer mattered who.

Kid pushed his last bullet into the remaining empty chamber and looked up towards the place he had last seen Joe. He waited a few seconds but when there was still no movement he scanned the other rocks in front of him.

Considering the amount of blood he had lost Joe had moved much faster than Kid would have thought him capable of and was now almost behind him.

As he crept closer, Joe's foot dislodged a loose stone. Kid instantly reacted to the sound and flipped over onto his back, his Colt already cocked but, as fast as he was, he didn't get to pull the trigger. Instead, a single shot rang out. Kid's eyes widened in surprise as Joe Wheeler staggered backwards, blood pumping from his chest. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Hannibal Heyes stood in the middle of the clearing clutching a smoking gun between his bound hands. He remained standing for a second or two longer before dropping to his knees.

Positive that he was next Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and did his best to curl up into a ball. Kid gave him a cursory glance and, doubting that the boy would be able to make a play for one of the guns strewn around the clearing he scrambled to his feet and ran to the crumpled figure of his partner.

"Heyes!"

Brown eyes looked up and Kid couldn't fail to read the anguish already forming in their depths.

"He was. . . gonna. . . kill you," Heyes rasped.

"I know. Thank you," Kid said quietly. Holstering his gun he knelt down and gently removed the pistol from between his cousin's hands. A long minute passed then he asked, "Think you can you stand up?"

Heyes nodded but was grateful for the support of his partner's strong arms.

Curry's mind was racing. He had no idea how best to deal with this situation because Heyes had only ever shot a couple of people in his whole life. He had certainly never killed anyone.

Kid knew from personal experience the lasting effect this would have on him but he also knew that this was not the time or place to try and deal with any emotional fallout. There would be plenty of long nights out on the trail for that. When, and only when, Heyes felt he was ready to talk Kid would be there for him.

Practicalities had always been his forte so, as his partner once again sank to the ground at the base of the tree, Kid turned his focus to Heyes' bindings.

He attempted a wry smile. "Not got these ropes off yet? You must be slippin'."

Heyes just grunted in reply so Kid quickly undid the loop of rope around Heyes' neck before sliding a couple of fingers into his partner's brown suede boot to pull out his hidden blade. Feeling a little puzzled as to why Heyes hadn't already done this he used it to cut the rope from his wrists.

Heyes grimaced as the bloodstained rope slid away.

Noting Heyes' feeble attempt to shake his hands as he freed them Kid asked, "They cut bad?"

"Uh, uh. Can't. . .feel."

"Can't feel what?"

"Fingers."

"But how did you manage to shoot the gun?"

Foolishly attempting a shrug Heyes only succeeded in producing a shooting pain across his shoulders.

"Dunno," he eventually replied, then coughed dryly.

Kid hurriedly sought out a canteen, picked it up and shook it. It felt half full. He barely had time to undo the cap because, having caught sight of the water container, Heyes ignored his numb fingers and snatched it out of Kid's hand, attempting to swallow the water in great gulps.

"Whoa, there! Slow down or you'll be sick," Kid warned him gently.

Heyes lowered the canteen, breathing heavily. "Thirsty. . . no water."

"None at all?"

Heyes shook his head. "Couple. . . of . . .mouthfuls. Hot sun. . .no hat,"

Curry's eyes flashed. "Son-of-a—!" he exploded as he rose to his feet. "I'm guessin' no food neither."

Heyes took a few more gulps of water then shook his head again.

Kid laid his hand on Heyes' arm and his voice softened. "Listen. You _sip_ that, y' hear, while I go see to that kid."

"Never mind about that dumb kid," groused Nate.

Startled by the sound of a voice from the other side of the tree the Colt .45 once again flew into Kid's hand; both he and Heyes had momentarily forgotten the other injured outlaw.

"I'm shot too y' know and I'm gonna bleed out if somethin' ain't done real quick."

Kid's temper flared. He bent down and seized the front of Nate's shirt, balling the fabric in his fist.

"Quiet," he growled, his eyes ice cold. "So help me, I've a mind to finish you, right now."

"Jed," Heyes croaked softly. "No more. . .blood."

With a look of disgust Curry roughly pushed Nate to the ground, rammed the Colt back into its holster and strode off toward Jimmy.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Hannibal Heyes sat in the rapidly cooling twilight air wrapped in the familiar embrace of his old grey coat. His bedroll was set out next to a newly laid campfire and he stared into the incipient flames as the wood spat and crackled sending wisps of smoke and showers of sparks up into the air. He felt so much better than he had an hour ago. The pain in his arms was easing to a dull ache, his throat was sore but no longer dry and, probably best of all, he had been reunited with his black hat.

Heyes felt exhausted but he couldn't even begin to try to sleep. Two of the day's events kept playing over and over in his mind.

He could clearly picture the malevolent ear-to-ear grin on Joe Wheeler's face as he held a loaded gun to Heyes' head, mindlessly cocking and un-cocking it while he watched Gil and Nate wind the rope around his neck. The fear Heyes had felt, but hoped he hadn't shown, was still raw.

Then there was the image he knew would be forever burned into his memory; Joe Wheeler's lifeless body hitting the ground.

Sure, he had seen people die, but never by a bullet fired by his own hand. Heyes' mind reeled at the very thought that he had actually killed a man even if it did mean that he had saved the life of the only person in this world that mattered to him; the only person that he called 'family'.

Despite this, Heyes suspected that the shooting of Wheeler would still be looked upon by the law as murder and he knew he would be working on coming to terms with that for a long, long time.

Had his cousin felt like this the first time he had taken a life? Somehow he doubted it; after all, the circumstances were very different. Most of Kid Curry's adversaries had called him out, looked him in the eye and gone for their gun first. Usually, Kid's bullet took out his opponent's weapon or wounded their gun arm but Heyes could recall a few times when the gunman's shot had been deadly. Had that been deliberate? With Kid's skill he doubted it was an accident. What made him change his aim? Was it that he doubted he could beat them to the draw and therefore had to make sure he came out on top? Maybe one day Heyes would ask him.

While Heyes sat quietly with his thoughts Kid Curry had been busy.

First he grabbed Jimmy by the shoulder of his jacket and dragged him down the slope and over the clearing to join Nate under the tree. He tied up the boy's hands with a saddle string, then wrapped a bandana around his wounded leg.

Next, he brought all the horses into camp together with the buckboard. Having set up a highline he tethered the animals to it so that they could graze on the sparse vegetation and be within reach of the water.

He then hauled both Joe and Gil's bodies next to each other, covered them with an old tarp he had found in the wagon and weighted it down with several rocks. Burying them wasn't an option in this hard ground and anyway, he certainly had no intention of wasting any more energy on those two today.

Finally, Kid returned to Jimmy and proceeded to cut the boy's pants with Heyes' knife in order to take a better look at the bullet wound. Jimmy yelped in pain and fear as Kid poured some whiskey over it and applied a bandage as tightly as he dared in the hope it would stop the bleeding, all the while showing no reaction to Jimmy's distress. He was still barely suppressing his temper at the treatment his partner had received at the hands of the gang.

Brought out of his contemplation by the boy's cries Heyes wandered over to take a look at the wound for himself. He grimaced at the damage Kid's bullet had inflicted and doubted the lad would walk without a limp from now on — if he was lucky enough to keep his leg. There was also the chance that he might bleed to death overnight. Heyes offered Jimmy a drink from one of their canteens. He didn't much like Jimmy's chances but he tried giving the lad a positive smile.

Kid then turned his attention to Nate, bandaging his shoulder and rigging up a sling out of a couple of bandanas to ease his broken collar bone. He ignored the man's curses until, having finally reached his limit, he had pressed the cold barrel of his Colt against the outlaw's cheek with such a murderous look in his eye that Nate snapped his mouth shut and didn't utter another sound.

Heyes returned to his bedroll and Kid joined him by the campfire, his eyes drawn to the flames.

"That leg looks pretty bad," Heyes said, keeping his voice low.

"Yep," came Kid's taciturn reply.

"He can't be more than seventeen, Kid."

"Heyes..." Kid swallowed hard. "First of all, they didn't give you any water. Then, they tried to cripple you by tyin' you up too tight and, if that weren't enough, Joe tried to lynch ya," he said through partly clenched teeth. "I sure ain't got any sympathy for the likes of them."

"Jimmy _did_ give me a little water when Joe wasn't looking."

"Pfftt!"

Now that the adrenaline-charged shootout was over Kid was beginning to feel weary but his anger remained. Heyes was well aware of the icy glint that shone in his partner's eyes. Even after all their years of riding together it still had the power to make his blood run cold, and that was when it wasn't even aimed at him!

Eventually Kid looked up from the flames, his gaze a little warmer.

"About time you and me had some food, I'd say," he said, glaring over his shoulder at the two captives. His stomach gave a well-timed growl.

Heyes grinned faintly. "Sounds like it."

"You must be real hungry."

"Kinda," replied Heyes. "I guess you get used to not eating after a while. Like when we ran away from the Home. We went for days without hardly eating a thing."

"Well, I didn't get used to it then and I ain't about to start now! We ain't got much, but you're gonna eat, Heyes. Let's get you started on somethin' then I'll go see what I can find in the wagon."

Curry started unpacking the food that remained in his saddlebags. There was some jerky which he didn't think Heyes could manage right now, a couple of Ida's biscuits, plus the two hard-boiled eggs she had also given him. Sighing, he surveyed the meagre offering.

"How 'bout an egg?" he asked optimistically, holding one out to his cousin.

"Not without salt."

Kid smirked. "Salt? Look, if you're thinking of doin' that egg balancin' trick — remember, I've seen it already — more times than I can count!"

Brown eyes narrowed. "No, I'm not gonna do the egg trick," said Heyes, irritably. "Anyway, the way my hands are right now, I doubt I could hold it steady enough."

"They feelin' that bad?"

"Mmm hmm."

His smile now replaced with a frown of concern Kid peeled the shell from the egg then, after another rummage through his saddlebags, he produced a twist of paper containing what was left of their salt supply.

Heyes thanked him as he took it, making sure his fingers held the egg securely before dipping it into the salt. Kid watched him closely. Satisfied that his cousin had taken a couple of bites he got up to investigate the contents of a couple of gunny bags in the back of the wagon. There he found a good quantity of salt pork, a few tins of tomatoes and, thankfully, a can opener together with an old iron cooking pot.

The pork and tomatoes heated up nicely in the pot and Kid hungrily ate his fill. He silently congratulated himself in having persuaded Heyes to take a little too.

Feeling a little more genial now his stomach was full, Kid grudgingly spoon fed Nate and Jimmy with the leftovers.


	5. Chapter 5

Kid Curry awoke to the grey light of an overcast dawn. He yawned and turned over towards his partner. The bedroll next to him was empty.

Experiencing an alarming feeling of déjà vu he sat up, then sighed with relief as he saw his cousin standing on the other side of the clearing. Hastily pulling on his boots and buckling up his gun belt he ambled over to join him.

Heyes, his hands thrust deep into his coat pockets and his dark eyes shaded by a frown, stood staring at the tarp that covered the two corpses. He barely acknowledged his partner's presence.

Kid laid his hand on Heyes' shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. When there was no response Kid gave his cousin's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Heyes?"

Dark eyes remained fixed as Heyes murmured, "I had to do it, Jed."

"I know. I'd have done the same for you. You know that, don't ya?"

Heyes glanced sideways at his cousin and nodded. "I do. You shot Danny Bilson...for both of us."

Curry looked down at his feet and considered this for a moment. "I guess you could look at it like that."

"You haven't said much about that day."

"Ain't much to say. Guess I just put it away with all the other things I didn't want to think too long about, like the day our folks died." Heyes felt Kid squeeze his shoulder again.

They both stood staring at the tarp for a few minutes longer, lost in their own memories, before Kid said, "I'm sorry, Heyes."

"Uh? What for?"

"For leavin' the saloon. I really shouldha stayed."

"Kid, it wasn't a big game; and anyway... I _can_ look after myself, y' know," said Heyes, a touch indignantly.

Nodding slowly, Kid drawled. "Sure y' can."

Patting Heyes on the back he added, "C'mon, what say we get a fire going and then you can make us some coffee? Y' know, I think we should make sure to give those two a cup." Kid jerked his head toward the sleeping forms of Jimmy and Nate. "Make them suffer some more after all they put you through."

Heyes huffed out a ragged breath. "I'm guessing they'd only just got started. Couldha been a whole lot worse if you hadn't turned up when you did." At last Heyes' eyes connected with Kid's. "Thanks for coming to get me."

Kid smiled reassuringly.

As both men turned to walk back across the clearing Heyes stumbled. Bending down he picked up the object that he had almost tripped over.

"What's this?" he asked, pushing his hat to the back of his head as curiosity momentarily lifted his mood.

Curry grinned when he saw what his partner was holding. "That there's my fake dynamite! It sure fooled Wheeler and that kid into giving away their positions." He took the bundle of sticks from Heyes and tossed it in his hand. "Have to say, it looked a lot more impressive with a burnin' fuse."

"Huh. Just looks like a bunch of sticks to me."

"Now Heyes, y' gotta have a little imagination. Know what? I'm gonna take it with us. You never know when fake dynamite will come in useful."

"No, I guess you don't," admitted Heyes. Then his face broke into a smile. "It'll be real useful when we come across a fake safe that needs blowing!"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Throughout the morning the two ex-outlaws deliberated long and hard over what they should do about Nate and Jimmy. They knew that both men needed to see a doctor and get their wounds cleaned up but they also needed to be turned over to the law and the nearest place to do both was Benning.

They decided against arriving in town with two injured prisoners slung in the back of the wagon; that would probably attract too much attention. They also didn't want to try the well used story about the two of them being deputies. Neatly sidestepping allegations as to their true identities was getting real old as was pointing out how they inadvertently matched the descriptions on the Sheriff's Wanted posters first. Just the sight of those posters still had a nasty habit of bringing them both out in a cold sweat. Their practice of telling people they were working for Lom Trevors was also beginning to irk the (occasionally) friendly Porterville Sheriff so they made an effort not to drop his name quite as often as they used to. They would just have to hope that the lawmen of Benning didn't believe the two outlaws' story about being turned in by Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry.

By noon they had come up with a plan.

While his partner napped in the back of the buckboard alongside the prisoners Kid drove the wagon along the trail, leading the four saddle horses behind them from the tailboard. Selling the outlaws' two horses and saddles shouldn't arouse too much suspicion, especially if they picked the right kind of town to do it in and the money would be a nice bonus to go with Heyes' poker winnings from Barrenbrook. Kid wrinkled his nose with distaste at the memory of going through Joe Wheeler's pockets in order to retrieve the money.

Now he had time to think, Curry had to admit to himself that he was worried about the continuing numbness that his partner was experiencing in his fingers. But he knew it was worrying Heyes a lot more.

He wondered what would happen if the damage was permanent and his partner didn't get any feeling back? Furthermore, what if the amnesty never came through and they decided their only choice was to return to outlawing? If Heyes' fingers were permanently damaged he would never have the level of sensitivity needed to work the tumblers on a safe, or pick a lock for that matter. And if it came down to handling nitro, well Kid certainly wouldn't let him even get near it. He didn't like it when Heyes handled high explosives at the best of times and that was with his fingers in full working order!

Little did Kid know, it was more the thought of not being able to fan five cards in his hand or shuffle a pack with his usual aplomb which was gnawing at Heyes!

By early evening they had reached the outskirts of Benning and stopped near the river, picking a spot where the wagon and the horses would be hidden by a thick cluster of trees. Both the injured men were still alive — for now. Nate continued to gripe despite Kid's threats but Jimmy was starting to show signs of a wound fever.

When he wasn't sleeping, Heyes had spent a good part of the journey poking at the tips of his fingers with the sharpest of his lock picks but it wasn't until they had made camp that one such prod provoked a cry of "Ouch!", followed by a jubilant laugh.

On hearing this Kid smiled and sighed with relief hoping that this was a sign that his partner was slowly returning to normal.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Midnight had come and gone and the small border town of Benning slept quietly under the light of the crescent moon. The saloon had closed up surprisingly early which meant nobody was staggering home late and the only lantern still lit in the main street was the one on the wall outside the Sheriff's office. This was fortunate, because that was exactly where Kid Curry was headed.

Kid drove the old wagon down the main street as slowly as possible but it still rattled and creaked making more noise than he would have liked, but he just had to pray that nobody took any notice; especially whoever was on duty in the Sheriff's office. He turned down a side street next to the jailhouse and whistled softly. Heyes appeared from around the corner at the other end of the street and jogged down to meet the wagon.

There was just enough light to see what they were doing and it didn't take long for them to pull two bound, blindfolded and gagged figures from the wagon, prop them up as quietly as possible against the wall of the Sheriff's office and high-tail it back down the side street to where Heyes had tethered the four horses.

It was about half an hour later when the Deputy ventured outside to patrol the town on his rounds. He was half asleep so almost fell over a pair of legs stretched out on the boardwalk. He looked in astonishment at the two bound men outside his office, one of which upon hearing his footsteps started to wriggle and moan loudly.

Figuring there must be a good reason for them being there he pulled the protesting man, who he noticed had an injured shoulder, across the floor of his office and into a cell followed by a very pale semi-conscious youth with a swollen blood-soaked leg.

The Deputy's eyes were drawn to a note pinned to the youth's shirt as he gave them both a desultory pat-down to search for weapons. He pushed the crumpled piece of paper into his pocket. Then he undid the gags and blindfolds and untied the first man's feet. Drawing his gun, he backed out from the cell and locked the door securely before ordering the man to stand up and approach the bars so he could free his hands. Being on his own in the office made him extra cautious, so he left the man to untie the boy.

Before heading out to rouse the doctor from his bed he turned up the lamp on his desk, took the piece of paper from his pocket and squinted at the pencilled scrawl and rough map.

 _To the Sheriff_

 _Benning_

 _These men are Nate Wishall and Jimmy Wheeler. They are members of the notorious Wheeler Gang and are both wounded. Please fetch a doctor. Jimmy is hurt bad._

 _Joe Wheeler and Gil Tatson are dead. Their bodies are shown on the map marked with an X._

 _Ed Hotchkiss and Karl Rembacker_

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Despite there being little moonlight and the fact that they were each leading a horse the two former outlaws had been lucky in finding an even trail which enabled them to kept up a good pace, and were several miles north of Benning by the time the Deputy was knocking on the doctor's door. They were heading north to Farwell where they hoped to sell the horses before moving on into New Mexico.

Slowing his sorrel to a walk Heyes leant on his saddle horn and, with a look of concern on his face turned to his cousin and said, "You know, Kid, there is one thing that I've learned from all this."

"What's that? Don't stay out after midnight?"

"Nope."

"Don't stay out after midnight without me watchin' your back?"

"Wrong again."

Kid's sudden frown made Heyes add hastily, "Oh..oh..well, that goes without sayin', Kid, but it's not what I'm gettin' at."

"What then?"

"I've learned that _you_ need a lot more shooting practice."

Kid pulled his horse to an abrupt halt. _"I WHAT?!_ How d' ya figure that?"

Hannibal Heyes looked away for a moment as he felt corners of his mouth beginning to twitch. He reined his horse around and faced his partner.

"I'd have thought it was obvious."

"Well, not to me it ain't." Kid was starting to sound prickly.

Brown eyes twinkled as Heyes raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"C'mon Heyes, out with it!"

Despite considerable effort on his part Hannibal Heyes could no longer suppress a broad grin.

"You needed two shots to split that rope."


End file.
